"You're wrong," said I. "I saw somebody there to-day."
"Oh, a peasant, perhaps."
"Well, the dress didn't look like it. Do you really want to go there now?"
"Haven't you mocked me enough?" she burst out. "Take me back to my prison."
Her tragedy air was quite delightful. But I had been leading her up to something which I thought she ought to know.
"There's a woman in that cottage," said I. "Not a peasant—a woman in some dark-colored dress, who uses opera glasses."
I saw her draw back with a start of surprise.
"It's false," she cried. "There's no one there. Constantine told me no one went there except Vlacho, and sometimes Demetri."
"Do you believe all Constantine tells you?" I asked.